It Was Real
by ifonly13
Summary: One little mistiming drives them apart.
1. When It Breaks

_A/N: The song this story is based around had been stuck in my head for a while now. I've had the lyrics open in a tab for at least two weeks, waiting for inspiration to strike. And it did, at just about 12:30am. I'm not telling what song it is until the end - if you can guess, all the more power to you._

_**Disclaimer: Castle, in all its glory, belongs to Andrew Marlowe and crew.**  
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><p>"Don't leave."<p>

She paused, her hand on the doorframe. "I have to. I can't… Not anymore."

His voice was perilously close to begging when he took the next step forward, wanting to touch her but afraid that it would just drive her away faster. "Kate. Please."

_Don't look back,_ she told herself. _You look back and you're done for._ It killed her, even through the anger coursing through her body, to just walk out into the hallway and leave him standing in the living room. She didn't have to look to know just how he looked at that moment when she disappeared around the corner. That was part of the reason she was leaving in the first place; he had gotten under her skin, dug his way in there and made a happy home right next to her heart where no one ever touched. She had tried to evict him and each time, he found his way deeper into the organ, spreading through her veins until she had been sure she wouldn't be able to live another day without seeing him in the morning, waking up with his face next to hers, snoring softly with the warm puffs of breath ruffling her hair or falling asleep next to him when her body finally gave out from exhaustion after running on fumes of caffeine.

The other reason was simpler to explain, less emotional. She had seen the board the few times before that night while wandering around at ungodly hours when her mind refused to shut down to sleep. She never turned it on, happy to let the plot of his next novel stay a secret until she held the published hardcover in her hands. Tonight had been different and she had no one to blame for it.

.

_The case had closed faster than she thought it was going to. It had looked tricky; hints of the mob tangling up with love made for something that looked vaguely like West Side Story. Castle had said as much as he quoted the musical at every chance, claiming that was what happened when you were raised by a Broadway diva at her career prime._

_Kate had sent him home for the night, promising she'd be back by nine o'clock if the case didn't close itself earlier. And he had left, assuring her that dinner would be waiting for her, either on the table or in the fridge. She expected to come home to a dark apartment, nuke the leftovers, and crawl into bed next to him to sleep for a few hours._

_What had happened was out of left field. The killer, a young boy no older than high school age, strolled into the precinct and confessed. Signed his confession, let Ryan bring him down to Holding for the night before he would head to the Tombs to await arraignment._

_So Kate had rolled out of the precinct not an hour after Castle had hailed a taxi back to the apartment. She was pleased with herself. She's surprise Castle, be able to eat dinner with him, then fall asleep with him at the same time instead of joining him hours after he had drifted off._

_The loft was eerily quiet when she unlocked the door using the shiny silver key Castle had handed her two weeks ago "just in case." There was a glow from the kitchen from the fireplace, another across the room from his study. Normally the man needed bright chaos to write, so the near-darkness was confusing. She dropped her purse and jacket on the back of one of the dining table chairs, tiptoeing toward the study to open the door._

_And stopped short._

"_What?" Her voice was barely a whisper, shock taking away any urge to scream._

_He turned from the SmartBoard, his face dropping instantly. "Kate. This isn't…"_

_Anger had started creeping in, a welcome rush. "Do not say 'what it looks like,' Castle. I'm not stupid." She pivoted, going to get her things from the dining room._

"_I know you aren't." He ran after her and managed to grab her wrist. "Kate, let me explain."_

"_I don't want to hear it, Castle!" she yelled, trying to pull her wrist from his hand and failing. "How could you?"_

"_For you, Kate. Always for you. I had to."_

_Kate jerked her hand away from his, snatching up her jacket and purse. "Bullshit, Castle. You did it for you, just like you did three years ago."_

.

In the elevator, she let her head fall back against the wall with a dull thud. He hadn't followed her unless he was jogging down the stairs to intercept her in the lobby. He wouldn't make a scene there, not with Eduardo sitting at the desk with the latest Time and a cup of coffee. Knowing him, he'd show up at her front door in an hour or so with flowers or chocolate or wine to smooth things over.

But gifts wouldn't heal this hurt, not when the betrayal went this deep.

Kate made it to her own lobby before her resolve started to break. She wanted to turn around, grab that cabbie that she had just paid, and get back to Castle. Apologize for her behavior and let him explain. Then she remembered what she had seen, what he had been doing and kept walking up the stairs of her building.

It didn't take her long to pack – she had always traveled light. A quick voice mail was left for Gates at the precinct, telling her she was taking a week of vacation time. A mass text was sent off to her team and Lanie. Then Kate locked up the apartment and went to find another cab in the night to get to JFK.

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><p>He was still standing in the living room, in the same place she had left him. That was where Alexis found him as she came downstairs for a glass of water.<p>

"Dad?" Her voice was thick with sleep, but the concern was obvious. "Where's Kate?"

He wasn't sure his own vocal chords would cooperate with him, but he tried. "Gone. She's gone."

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><p><em>AN: I promised I'd put a story out before Monday. There will be more because I have the rest of this story completely planned out to a total of four chapters. And I know exactly what will go on in each of those chapters as long as the characters behave and go along with me._

_In other news, Logan broke 25K on NaNoWriMo last night - 25,040 to be exact, but who's counting? Halfway done!_

_Reviews would be fantastic. Really. Take a break from fangirling/crying over the Kill Shot promos and drop a few words here. I'd be eternally grateful for something to read before I go out on tour tomorrow. (And I'm spoiler-free, so don't go rambling about the promos since I will ignore the messages until after Monday's episode. Just sayin'...)_


	2. Hard To Just Forget

_A/N: So, I should have warned you to bust out the buckets for your tears with the last chapter. Keep those buckets handy - this is going to go downhill before we can climb up again. There will be a happy ending, so keep your eyes on the goal here!_

_**Disclaimer: I am not employed by ABC or any of the crew of Castle... yet.**  
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><p>"What did you do?"<p>

He had barely stepped off the elevator when he found himself surrounded, his back pressed against the now-closed elevator doors. To say Ryan and Esposito looked pissed would have been an understatement.

"What?" he asked tentatively, shifting the coffee cups in his hand as his palm got too warm from the liquid inside them.

Esposito took another step forward, crowding Castle into the elevator doors. "To Beckett. What did you do?" Each word was spoken slowly, as if he were explaining complex physics to the writer.

Castle could see over their shoulders into the bullpen. Her desk was empty, the computer screen black, her chair still pushed in from when she left last night. Last night… "She told you guys?"

"Told us what?" ground out Ryan, his eyes flickering to his partners.

So she hadn't shared everything. Castle shouldered his way through the barrier made by the two men, walking over to her desk and setting the coffee on the corner. "Nothing."

"Then where is she?"

"She left." The three heads turned to Gates's office door. The woman was leaning against the frame, her arms crossed with her glasses dangling from one hand. "Taking some vacation time. For the week, Ryan's lead." Gates turned and closed the office door with a click.

"Vacation time?" Esposito asked. The men had turned on him the moment Gates was out of sight. "Where?"

Castle held his hands up defensively. "I didn't know she was gone to begin with!"

The elevator rang when it reached the floor and all of them turned to see who stepped off. It wasn't Beckett like they hoped, but Lanie. She had her hands on her hips as she rounded the corner, her eyes skimming over the men and landing on her friend's empty desk.

"Where is she?" she demanded, turning on the guys circling Beckett's desk. Lanie pinned each of them with a long glare that had Castle figuring the medical examiner would be a very good interrogator. "Seriously? None of you know where she is?"

Esposito spoke up. "On vacation." His voice rose at the end, making the statement sound suspiciously like a question. "Didn't she tell you more details?"

"I got a cryptic text last night about her taking some time. Then nothing." Suddenly, she turned on Castle. "This is your fault. I can just tell. You are the only one that can do this to her." He was backing up unconsciously as Lanie advanced, her finger jabbing into his chest. "What were you doing, Richard Castle?"

He glanced around, then jerked his head toward the conference room. He really didn't want to tell them about what he had been doing when Kate had been asleep or pouring over case details at the precinct as he claimed to write at home. Castle closed the door behind them, gesturing to the chairs at the table.

"So?" It was Lanie again, her fingers tapping on the table impatiently.

Castle shoved his hands in his pockets, swallowing any fear. "I was looking into her mother's case."

"Seriously?" Esposito burst out. "After everything she said about it, you keep digging? After everything that has happened because of it?"

Ryan was just as angry. "Because, in case you don't remember, she was nearly killed because of your prying."

The reminder had Castle opening and closing his mouth even as he watched Lanie aim a well-placed kick at Ryan's shin.

"I'm aware. Let me explain?" He waited for their nods before continuing, his eyes drifting out the window. It looked like he was only checking to make sure Gates wasn't snooping but his eyes were landing on her desk, still empty, the coffee slowly turning cold in their cups.

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><p>Logan International Airport was busy, a bustle of activity as flights came in and departed. Kate fought her way out of the secured zone past families stopping for bathroom breaks or to get snacks out, glad she only had her weekender bag and wouldn't have to wait in the crowds for the baggage claim.<p>

Like all airports, Logan had her share of taxi lines, the typical yellow that filled the New York City streets mixing here with blues, greys, and tans. Some of the cabbies were chatting, leaning against the concrete pillars outside the terminals. One of them saw her scanning the lines and dropped his Subway bag in the trashcan.

"Where to, miss?" he asked, gesturing toward one of the faded blue cabs, flicking the light off and playing with the meter as she slid into the backseat.

"You know any nice hotels in the West End?" In the few day trips she had taken to Massachusetts, the architecture of the West End had always appealed to her. And it was close to the river, a few parks, and museums. Plenty of distractions for the week.

The drive was quiet. The cabbie wasn't one that tried to chat with his passengers or play them music. Kate was glad she had picked the right one. The last thing she wanted to do was talk because talking could lead to a conversation about the reason she was in Boston in the first place. She was happier to nibble at the base of her thumb nail and watch the skyline of the city appear once they emerged from the tunnel leading to the airport.

"Is there a price range, miss?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. Just pick one."

They passed the Esplanade along the Charles River, following the one-way streets until the driver stopped outside a building. "This is a nice one. I've had plenty of friends spend the weekend here and loved it." He turned, using the passenger's head rest, and faced her. "You want me to wait while you see if they have a room?"

"No, that's fine. I'll find my way around if they don't have one," she replied with the ghost of a smile. She paid him, sending him off with a quick 'thanks' before walking into the hotel's lobby.

It was warm, completely different from New York City. The tones were dusky instead of chic, comforting instead of simply being stylish. The color scheme seemed to run from an eggshell white to a forest green, burnt oranges providing an accent color in the couch's throw pillows and in the designs stenciled onto the walls and desk.

"Can I help you?"

The voice rang out over the lobby, coming from a college age girl at the check-in desk. She gave Kate a little wave as she walked over, wiggling the mouse on the computer to wake the screen up.

"Yeah," Kate said, resting her bag on the ground at her feet. "Wondering if you have a room for the week."

The girl clicked a few things then nodded. "Definitely!" As she took down Kate's information, the girl made small-talk. "So, where you visiting from?"

"New York."

"Nice! Business or pleasure?"

Kate couldn't blame the girl. She was friendly, constantly tucking a runaway piece of brown hair behind her ear with ink-stained fingers. Kate idly wondered if the ink was from being an art student or a writer; the printing on a page took longer to dry than expected and Kate remembered many time when Castle would smudge a page with his haste. When she looked up, the girl was gazing at her expectantly. _Right_, Kate thought. _She asked a question_. "Pleasure."

"Well, you enjoy your stay here in Boston, Miss Beckett," she said, handing over the credit card and a room key. "You're up on the second floor, room twenty-six."

The entire hotel felt like home. Exposed wood painted in soft earth tones complimented bold navy and deep red. With a sigh that she felt down to her bones, Kate dropped onto the bed, letting her bag fall on the side, stretching her hands over her head. For the first time since boarding the plane in New York City, she felt okay. Not better, but like a tiny bit of that weight that had settled onto her shoulders in Castle's loft had been dropped. A different city, none of the same problems that she faced back home. Just what she needed for a week.

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><p><em>AN: Look at that! Kate flew into the airport named after me! (Not really. Nor was I named after the airport. Happy coincidence.) Do we approve of Kate's running from the problem? I'm honestly interested in hearing opinions on that point. Or the point of Castle sharing his secret investigation with the entire team. Either one. Or both. Whichever floats your proverbial boat._

_No correct guesses on the song inspiration for this story. Keep guessing, readers! And review while you're at it!_


	3. Can't Escape

_A/N: Don't hate me for what's to come._

_**Disclaimer: I'm just a Terri looking for her Andrew.**  
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><p>He hadn't written in the two days since she had left. Not just hours, which happened when he was too embarrassed by the shit he was writing to leave it on the page, but days. He'd drag himself out of bed, turn on the laptop before getting coffee, then sit down and stare at the screen for the entirety of the day. No music playing, no breaks for Angry Birds or Words with Friends. Just staring at the blank Word document with the cursor blinking, mocking him.<p>

"Dad."

Alexis's firm voice from the doorway of his study drew him out of the trance of counting the flashes of the little icon. "What, sweetie?"

"Stop this." She stepped into the room, waving at the laptop and the hint of a beard he had going after not touching a razor for days. "You need to get a grip. She's not dead. She's on vacation which means she'll be back."

He cleared his throat but his daughter plowed on.

"As far as that," she said, pointing at the SmartBoard, "goes, she was surprised. It happens when someone you care for keeps a secret from you. And yes, she didn't let you explain yourself. But wallowing here isn't solving any of your problems."

"Alexis…" He set the laptop on the desk, pulling his hand through his hair and realizing just how unkempt it was. She was standing in front of him, her arms crossed and glaring. "You're right." Castle's whole body deflated. "It's just…"

"You love her."

"More than anything." He raised his eyes to meet hers, the emotion obvious in their depths. "And she left me."

Alexis circled the desk, boosting herself up onto the surface so her toes brushed the floor. She grabbed one of her father's hands and gave it a squeeze. "She's not gone, Dad. She'll be back."

"But what then? She'll hate me for doing that," he said, pointing at the same board Alexis had indicated. "She said that when she left. Three strikes, Alexis, and I'm out."

"Baseball? Really?" He only shrugged.

Castle didn't mention that he only knew about the sport because Kate never stopped talking about it. Every morning, she would rip the paper from his hands to see what the score had been in the game she wasn't able to catch due to work. They'd spend the rare nights off cuddled on the couch with the Yankees on their screen, Kate whispering the various pitches and roles of positions in the game into his ear.

Alexis pushed the laptop away from him. "Go shower. Change your clothes. Then sit down and write. When you can't write anymore, go to bed." She gave a soft smile. "She'll be back before you know it. One day at a time."

He stood up, brushing a kiss over his daughter's forehead like he used to do when she was a child. "Thanks, Alexis."

"Anytime, Dad," she said, giving him a shove in the direction of his bedroom.

He got through the shower, shaved off the start of a lumberjack beard, and pulled on sweats and an old band tour t-shirt as he sat down to write.

One week. He could handle one week. Really, it was only four days since today was nearly over.

And then, he pushed her out of his mind, focusing on the fictional characters that he had control over.

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><p>It was a mistake.<p>

.

_The bar had been a few blocks from the hotel. She had wandered over after spending the afternoon in the museum, smiling over paintings that ranged from the Renaissance to modern art that had her tilting her head to understand the artist's intentions. The entire trip had reminded her of her love/hate relationship with art._

_Just a quick drink before going to back to the hotel._

_It had started with a glass of wine, swirling the red liquid in the glass as she sat at the bar. It was busy, not crowded. A group of men were watching the Sox game on the television and Kate was silently rooting for whichever team they were playing – her loyalty to the Yankees ran deep and she supported two teams, the pinstripes and whoever beat the Sox. So far, so good._

_Twenty minutes later, she had the empty glass in front of her, her fingers playing with the base as she observed the game from afar. If she listened hard enough she was certain she could hear the game in Fenway itself._

"_Hey, sweetheart."_

_The man who appeared at her elbow was holding a beer bottle, half of the liquid gone, and sporting a Sox cap. She didn't like him already, especially added to the fact that she called her 'sweetheart.' But she wanted to be friendly, so she smiled in response._

"_Can I get you another drink? Something stronger, perhaps?"_

"_I'm good," she said, shifting her body away from him, pulling out her phone._

_He didn't leave. "I'm Peter." His hand peeked into her peripheral vision, though she was unsure if he was looking for a handshake or if it was inching toward her own hand._

"_Nice to meet you," Kate responded, not looking at him and not touching his hand. She was pretending to text someone and didn't notice whose number she typed the message into until she glanced at the top of the screen. With a forceful press of her thumb, she closed the text and placed her phone next to the empty wine glass._

"_What's your name?"_

_The guy didn't give up._

"_Hey! Leave the lady alone."_

_Her cavalry was a tall man, his brown hair looking like he had just rolled out of bed providing a sharp contrast to his blue eyes. She swore her breathing stopped for a second before she noticed her friend Peter scooting away with his beer bottle._

"_Thanks," she whispered, running her finger along the edge of her phone._

_The man sat on the stool next to her, resting his head on his hand. "No problem. Pete likes doing that to every single women that come here." Unlike the man he just scared off, this one didn't offer his name or a handshake, just a smile._

_A smile that looked so similar to another person's that Kate was having trouble breathing. Even when she ran to Boston, he was following her._

"_Listen, let me get you a drink." When she hesitated, he held up a hand. "Just a Coke or water. Doesn't have to be another wine."_

_This man was sweet and, as much as she hated to admit it, reminded her of him. "You know what? How about a vodka?"_

"_Sounds like a plan." He motioned to the bartender for two._

_Half an hour later and more than a few drinks in, they were chattering away like old pals. She had learned his name was Jamie, he was a museum curator at the Children's Museum, and despite being a Bostonian for his entire life, didn't care for the Sox. She shared her name, where she was staying, and for how long – details that she never would have dropped if she had been sober; as a cop, she knew better._

_Her mind was sufficiently fuzzy that when he asked if she wanted a walk back to her hotel, she accepted. Things went downhill fast as they climbed the stairs up to her room. When she fumbled with the key, Jamie reached over and slid it into the lock, holding the door open for her. As she slipped past him into the hotel room, her mouth open to thank him for the drinks and walk home, she found herself pressed against the wall, his hands roaming up and down her sides._

_She kissed back out of surprise, his hands tangling in her hair and tugging at the strands._

"_Oh, Kate…"_

_The murmuring of her name against her lips broke the spell. She shoved him away from her, watching as he stumbled backwards. Her head was spinning from the alcohol and her own self-hatred as she pointed to the door. "Get out." He didn't move, staring at her as she shook her head frantically. "Now!"_

_She slammed the door behind him, sliding to the ground._

.

It had been a mistake.

Her hands were fisted in her hair as she ignored the shots of pain that zipped down into her skull. She had stopped shaking an hour ago but hadn't moved from her spot on the ground. The sky had grown dark through the window of the hotel, the stars invisible in the bright lights from the center of the city. No different than New York. The whole place was no different. Except for one thing.

New York City had him.

Suddenly, Kate couldn't bear to live another minute without being in the same city as him. She didn't need to go back to his apartment or beg for forgiveness or show up at the precinct the next day. But she needed to be seeing the same invisible stars because of the same lights from the same city.

She packed up the few items she had spread out in the hotel room in a flurry of activity. There wasn't anyone at the check-in desk at nearly midnight so she left a note on the keyboard with her phone number and the instructions to charge her the entire week.

Taxis were scare in the backstreet the hotel was on so she jogged to the corner of Storrow Drive and hailed one as they flew past the Charles in the night. Not two days after leaving the terminal, Kate found herself back at one of the airline check-in desks in Logan looking for the next available flight to New York City.

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><p><em>AN: I'll be hiding from everyone until I feel it is safe to emerge. Take some deep breaths, readers, and put the pitchforks and/or Glocks away. Go grab some coffee and pizza. Watch an episode of Castle. Then review. I want clear heads for this._

_Also, I dislike writing about hating the Sox since I love them (when they play well). And they are so very cute._

_But in all seriousness, tell me exactly what you thought. Be brutal if needed. I can take it._


	4. Worth The Fight

_A/N: I was surprised at the lack of angry readers from the last chapter. I'd just like to clarify one thing: Kate did NOT sleep with Jamie. There was a single kiss and then she got a hold of herself and kicked him out. There was no sexy times for them. At all. Just clearing that up before we move onto the final chapter._

_**Disclaimer: I could never reach the level of genius that Andrew Marlowe and his crew of writers have reached.**  
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><p>The address tumbled off her tongue without realizing it. She was too tired to correct herself as the cabbie pulled away from the terminal at LaGuardia. She'd just find another cab once she got out at his place.<p>

Her fingers were playing with the handle of her bag, tugging at the loose thread peeping out from the folds of leather. She refused to look at her phone which had been off since the plane took off in Logan; she feared a message from him waiting for her.

"Where you coming from?"

She glanced into the rear view mirror as the man asked the question. He was smiling warmly, chocolate brown eyes reflected back at her. "Boston."

"I have cousins there. Nice city." He changed lanes, halting his conversation for the quick switch over to the exit. "You visiting the Apple for vacation?"

Kate shook her head, her hair brushing the backseat, looking down at her lap. "No. New York's home."

He fiddled with the radio, turning on one of the stations softly, Florence + the Machine filling the cab. "Well, welcome home then."

She wasn't nervous until the man stopped along the curb outside the familiar building. Still, she tried to make her smile appear genuine as she paid the cabbie and got out. Eduardo grabbed the door as she reached for the handle.

"Miss Beckett." The doorman looked confused, glancing over his shoulder back into the lobby as he held the door. "You're back."

"Yeah. We'll see for how long." She went to hit the button for the elevator, then stopped. Taking the stairs would give her extra time to think. "Have a good night, Eduardo."

A few feet from his door, Kate leaned against the wall. She was running right back to him. After everything he had done, she was back at his doorstep ready to beg to be forgiven for leaving. It just didn't seem right. He had done the wrong thing this time. He should be the one kneeling outside her door looking for forgiveness.

That door swung open a second later and Kate pressed herself against the wall, hoping whoever it was wouldn't see her.

"Kate."

Her breath rushed out. Not the voice she wanted to hear. But it was better than the other voice. She turned to smile as Martha closed the apartment door behind her, pulling her gloves on. Kate tried to judge the woman's emotion but was getting a blank read; those poker nights of Castle's certainly seemed to pay off for everyone in the house. "Hey, Martha. I was just…"

The woman breezed right past her, leaving Kate staring. "Go in and see him. He's been a wreak."

She took the few steps to the door that had just closed. She still hesitated, her hand raised to knock, then letting it fall to her side, her fingers uncurling against her thigh. "Pull yourself together, Katherine," she muttered, barely loud enough for her own ears to catch. She knocked.

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><p>He was sprawled out on the couch in his study, his laptop balanced on his stomach. That cursor was still sitting on the blank document, proving one fatal thing: he was lost without her. Not just Richard Castle the man but Richard Castle the writer. Without Kate, there was no Nikki.<p>

He needed her back.

Frustrated and angry and sad all at once, Castle typed in random words, hoping some of them would string together into something resembling quality. Nothing.

The laptop snapped shut just as he heard the faintest of knocks reverberating through the loft. Everything paused as he waited to see if it was a trick. Another three knocks. He fell off the couch, landing hard on his knee as he tried to save the laptop. Instead, he left it on the ground as he sprinted to the door, hoping it wasn't his mother who forgot her script for rehearsal.

The door swung open, hitting the wall behind it.

"Kate?"

She looked up through the curtain of her hair, her hazel eyes peeking out from between chestnut strands. "Hi."

He was staring, not even trying to hide it. But his body was blocking the way into the loft so she stood in the hallway, her foot kicking at her bag.

"Listen," she started.

She never finished the statement. In a second, he had grabbed one of the hands at her side, tugged her into the apartment and up against his chest.

"You left," he whispered, his cheek pressed to hers so he could speak into her ear. The warm air had her shivering.

"It was a mistake."

"We all make them." His lips traveled from her ear down her jaw to her neck. "But I made the biggest one. And I'm so sorry, Kate." He placed a kiss at the base of her throat, savoring the rumble of a moan that he felt there. "It was wrong of me."

Kate let her head fall back, hitting it on the doorframe hard enough to make her wince. She pushed through the quick jolt of pain. "Apology accepted." She twisted her head to see him. "But why?"

He pulled back and she immediately missed his warmth. "It sounds cheesy when I say it out loud…" Her eyes prompted him to continue anyway. "To protect you."

She tried to hide the little grin as she rolled her eyes. "You're right. Cheesy." Kate turned and picked up her bag, carrying it over to the couch and tossing it at the end as she sat next to it. "But try to explain in detail."

He didn't sit on the couch, choosing the armchair that was kitty-corner to it. He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle having her right there as he went through this. "After you came back from the summer, I got a call from someone claiming to be a friend of Montgomery's. Said he knew that if you kept investigating your mother's case, the people behind everything would come for you."

"So you decided to investigate instead. Because you aren't me so you were safe."

"Exactly."

Kate sighed, glancing over at him. "You didn't have to do that, Castle."

He was already shaking his head. "You know I did. I lo…"

"You love me." Those blue eyes flashed to hers in an instant. But hers were closed, hoping to protect herself from his anger, anger he had every right to feel. "Yeah, I know."

"When, Kate?"

The pain in his voice nearly broke her right there. She swallowed and held it together by a thread. "The hospital. As soon as I could think past the fuzz of drugs and pain." When she opened her eyes, there was something on his face she couldn't place. "Castle, I'm sorry."

For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, Kate found herself pressed against someone, only this time, she was happy to be squished into the cushions of the couch as Castle tackled her. His lips, for the first time in the night, finally met hers. She sighed into his mouth, her hands coming up to thread into his thick hair.

"God, I missed you, Kate," he murmured as he took a breath before diving back in. "I couldn't write without you. I wasn't me."

Kate gave him a shove back for a second. Write. He couldn't write Nikki Heat without her. Nikki and Rook. Rook whose first name was shortened to Jamie, something Kate had smiled over throughout the first reading of _Heat Wave_. Like the Jamie she had kissed in Boston. Kate considered keeping that from him; nothing had happened so he really didn't need to know.

Enough secrets.

"Castle, there's something else. In Boston, I-"

"You went to Boston?"

She ignored his interruption. "I kissed someone else." It came out in a blur as she tried to get it over with, like ripping a band-aid off quickly to avoid the pain. "But we didn't… I mean, I couldn't with him, not when I love you, Castle. I couldn't ever-"

He kissed her to shut her up. "Kate, I trust you to the moon and back."

Kate reached up to twirl a strand of his hair in between her fingers. "His name was Jamie. It was too meta and I was a little drunk." She smiled, a little tug at the corner of her lips. "You, Richard Castle, are a hard man to forget."

"I certainly hope so." Before she could reply, he had scooped her up from the couch and was walking toward his study. "I'd be concerned if you could throw me away that quickly."

She squeaked when he tossed her onto the bed, crawling over her to pin her wrists over her head. She teased him, arching her back so their chests slid across one another despite the layers of clothing between them. "I could never throw you away, Castle." She tipped her head up to give his lower lip a nibble before kissing away the sting. "I love you. And you don't get to toss away love."

He ducked his head, pressing butterfly kisses to her jaw. "There will be more fights, Kate. It happens."

"I know. We're worth it, Castle. This," she said, turning her head to catch his lips in a quick kiss, "is worth it."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I don't know how I feel about this chapter so I am really looking forward to your reviews. Give me some so I can solidify my feelings toward this chapter. Because, as it stands, the third chapter is my favorite. It actually holds my favorite line I've ever written. Ever._

_While I have you here, go to my profile. There you will find a link to a collaborative fic that I wrote with thirteen other authors in a single night while celebrating Kate Beckett's birthday in a chat room. We took turns writing dialogue, lines, paragraphs, etc. and daphnebeauty published it. It was probably the most fun I have had writing to date. Leave us a nice review so we can see what you think of "The Last Brick."_

_**But review this story as well. Because I like feedback as well. Review all the stories!**  
><em>


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